


After the Bombs

by yorkisms



Series: Lifeline Week '17 [2]
Category: Lifeline (Video Game 2015)
Genre: Coping, Discussions of death and light suicide mention, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Whiteout 1 good end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: He's not sure how this is going to help.But the talking as if they're there. That helps.It definitely helps.(Or: Adams can't sort out his feelings without help because he's not used to it)





	After the Bombs

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason these fics are developing a theme of being connected to the extended cut of The Crane Wife.
> 
> _We meet in the streets_   
>  _Will we meet in a bar's cold light?_   
>  _We grip at our hands_   
>  _We hold just a little tight_
> 
> _After the bombs_   
>  _After the bombs_   
>  _Subside._
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN9REo4Le6g

Adams sits down at a desk in the cabin he’s borrowing (“borrowing”) with a screwdriver and his communicator. He’s not sure if it’s still tracking him, or if he can disable it, but he certainly wants to know.

He picks up a screwdriver, and clicks the useless microphone button once or twice before sighing.

“What am I gonna tell you when I see you again. We never got to talk about what happened.”

He goes to work.

“The first thing I felt was revulsion,” Adams mumbles softly, twisting the rusty screwdriver to pull the screws out of the back of his communicator.

“I didn’t know why. He looked harmless. I guess I always knew.” 

The fourth screw is removed, and he pops the back panel off of the device, and continues talking as he examines the wires. Three blue, two red, one green, and a circuit board underneath. 

“And then he opened his mouth and started talking, and all that shit came pouring out.” 

Adams shudders, releasing one of the blue wires to gesture with his hands. 

“Who needs that loaded on them after three days?” He sighs, leaning his head on one hand and picking absently at the wires. 

“I didn’t.” 

He frowns, now, concentrating and then carefully yanking one of the red cords from its socket. 

“I don’t understand how he justifies it. Torture, murder, abuse, and for what? For what he calls perfection and threatens in the same breath? For me?” 

He shakes his head, putting the communicator down and leaning back in his seat. 

“Does he think we don’t feel? Does he tell himself this is what’s right? Or does he just like toying with us?” 

That’s the real question, Adams thinks with a loud sigh. He returns his attention to the communicator, pulling out a blue wire now. 

“Speaking of us…” Adams pauses, staring down at his gloved hands. The winter wind howls outside. 

“What he said about them was disgusting. I wish we could have saved them.” 

He looks down at the currently busted communicator with a sigh. 

“That’s not our fault, though, is it.” 

He picks it up gently, rotating it so he can see the screen- blank. He clicks the microphone button. Nothing happens. 

“Yeah. Didn’t think it would work.”

He puts it back down with a soft sigh, looking at the blank screen.

“He talks about us like animals- do you know how that feels? Oh, fuck me. I don’t know if you would, I don’t want to put that on you.” Adams drags one hand down his face while muttering a sarcastic imitation. “Adams Two had a faulty ego chip, I patched that in the next version, don’t look so horrified at how callously I talk about your brother’s suicide-” 

He breaks off, putting his head down on the table. 

“Ugh. It’s so hard to think about again. But I have to. I have to know what to tell you when you ask if I’m okay.” 

He picks up the screwdriver again, using it to push the wires apart as he continues to talk. 

“No matter what you would have said, I didn’t want to be a part of it. I’m glad we saw eye to eye. I don’t know, at that point, you probably could have convinced me that the sky was green and I’d believe you. Just goes to show the things you can manipulate a three day old robot into.” 

Adams slots the screwdriver under the circuit board, testing whether he could pop it free. 

“And I think the scariest part is when all that manipulation failed, he tried to control me physically. I was scared. That this time was going to be it. The time I really die. But you always keep your head, don’t you? I don’t know how you do it. You’re a miracle.” 

Adams clears his throat and continues working, pulling out more wires. 

“Even now, I worry he still has something like that. Or something more powerful. I think the scariest thing I’ve ever felt was knowing that he had control over me.”

He quickly covers that statement by continuing, “I know you probably just told me to do it to be safe, but I wanted to kill him. Does that make me a bad person? I have to ask you if that makes me a bad person.” 

He pulls loose the green wire. 

“But before you answer, I need to tell you why. It wasn’t just about what you saw, with him, and me, and my brothers. It was bigger than us, believe me. Remember when I talked to you about those robots? The ones in the production hall? They had such terrifying purposes. And so many of them were built to kill...why would he need so many? Who’s killing anyone? How many people have lost a friend, a parent, a sibling, a child, to some vile piece of programming he wrote?” 

Adams shoves the communicator away for a moment, resting his head in his hands. “I know, we don’t know, but I have to ask.” 

He pauses a beat.

“Sometimes I wonder what makes me different. I’m a vile piece of programming he wrote, too.” 

He sighs, running his fingers over the spots of rust on the screwdriver.

“I know, I shouldn’t say that. But I wanted to kill him. I hate that I didn’t and now I have to live like this.”

_ Without you. _

Adams makes a noise of irritation to himself. “He had to write that in. He had to write such a terrible piece of programming, write that into me to protect his own slimy life, and make damn sure that I would never live without this absolute horseshit. It feels like a marking. This robot property of Dr W. Sibellius, ALT, return or kill at your discretion, it’s not like he can do anything about it! Ha ha.” 

He slumps forwards.

“That was dark. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be happy to see you again. It’s only a matter of time.” 

He takes a deep breath. 

“I wanna ask how you keep your head. I wanna ask you how you do it, because I sure can’t. It’s hard. Impossible, even. I have to ask you what you think of these nightmares, and panic, and all these things I can’t explain.” 

He puts one hand on the communicator. 

“You guided me out of there. Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to tell you that, too.”

Adams pulls the communicator back to him and tugs the circuit board free.

“Thank you for telling me to be human. It’s hard, but I’m trying. I’m trying to find out if this endless tunnel is really a curve, but I think it is. It has to be. You believed in me.” 

Underneath the circuit board, Adams finds more wires. He sighs, putting the circuit board to the side. 

“I’m going to find you again.” 

Tug. 

“This is what I’m going to tell you when I see you.” 

Tug. 

“All of it.” 

Adams looks at the almost Lovecraftian mess of wires coming from his communicator and sighs. 

“Okay, Blue. Let’s try and find our friend, alright? I have a lot to say to them.” 

Blue barks quietly from Adams’ bed

“Good dog! Let’s get this thing completely apart."


End file.
